


sweetest devotion

by VictoriaGrimes



Series: all of us, intertwined [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Beautiful Golden Fools, Childbirth, F/M, Sibling Incest, a little bit angsty, but mostly fluff I guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:35:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21683083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaGrimes/pseuds/VictoriaGrimes
Summary: "Mama is bleeding and screaming," Joanna blurted out. "The baby is killing her, isn't he?"Jaime stared at her, his brows knitted together. He thought about Tyrion. Cersei blamed him his whole life for killing their mother, would their daughter do the same? No, Joanna countlessly repeated how much she wanted a little brother, and no, Cersei wasn't going to die. But what if she does? A small voice whispered in his head with a flash of their own mother dying in a bed of blood.Or; almost five years after settling in Pentos, Jaime and Cersei are about to welcome a new life and Joanna, their daughter, fears something might happen to her mother.
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister
Series: all of us, intertwined [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1791727
Comments: 24
Kudos: 59





	sweetest devotion

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So hum… I have never really done this before and I wondered for some time if I should publish something or not. After thinking way too much, I decided to give it a shot and I'm truly nervous about it. I'm not confident at all with my writing skills and I'm a perfectionist, I'm never satisfied with what I do. Also, it wasn't the fic I wanted to post in the first place, mostly because the POV is half Joanna's and she is a child. I'd rather have a full one with either Jaime or Cersei to begin with but, it's the first fic I completed so... 
> 
> Also : Ivy, Kenzie and Ana, thank you so much! You had to endure my semi-breakdown when I finished writing this fanfic, you were the first ones who read the draft and you helped me a LOT. I'm so grateful to have you, you can't imagine, and Ivy, I'm so sorry for being so annoying when you corrected it. I love you gorls! <3
> 
> Enjoy! :)

When her father woke her up this morning, telling her the baby was coming and that he had to fetch the midwife, the little girl had been thrilled at first. She stayed with her mother, in her parents' bed for a while. They broke their fast together and she rubbed the bump where the baby was hiding, like she often did those last few months, but then, she noticed her mother's beautiful face twisting with discomfort. She noticed her labored breath and she had started to worry.

Joanna has always wanted a little brother. Not a sister, as selfish as it was, as she would steal her toys and her dresses. She had kept asking and begging to finally get what she wanted, but her parents never promised anything. Until some months ago, they made her sit on her bed after supper and announced to her they were going to have a baby. She had been beyond excited since that day. But now, after hearing her mother's screams from the bedchamber while waiting in the kitchen, she wasn't so sure anymore. A baby was supposed to bring joy, not pain. 

Even if she never witnessed it before, those screams sounded like death. Screams of agony, blood and tears, that's how she imagined it. Was her mother going to die? The question lingered in her mind. A shiver ran down her spine, goosebumps pricking over her body. She couldn't die. A world without her wouldn't make sense. If that was the price to pay to have a little brother, they could take the baby back. Her mother and father would be enough.

The fact that she wasn't allowed in the room annoyed her too. When her father came back with the midwife earlier, her mother kissed her brows and they told her she had to stay in the kitchen until the baby was born. Myra, their neighbor, would look after her in the meantime. It has been hours now and still nothing. She could catch a glimpse of her father or the midwife from time to time, coming to grab something they needed in the room, but no sign of her mother. She was tired of waiting. Joanna craved to see her. She wanted her mother to wrap her firmly in her warmth and comfort her, whisper in her ear everything was going to be okay, like she always did.

She dropped her pen on the table. Drawing was useless anyway. She sighed.

Another scream echoed in the small house and Joanna jumped in her seat. She looked at Myra, who was doing the dishes, humming a song she didn't know, her back turned from her. Her dark brown hair was dancing on her shoulders and she didn't seem to be bothered by the noise. Her throat tightened. Her mother was going to die and no one cared about it.

Her eyes hovered on the scrap of paper in front of her. She had tried to draw a cat, like the one she saw each morning sleeping lazily on the edge of her bedroom's window, but it looked more like a monster she could meet in her nightmares. _Disappointing, and scary._ No, she wanted her mother.

She glared back at Myra and their eyes crossed, startling her. It was impossible to sneak around now. She was fixing her, a tiny smile on her pretty face like she knew what she was about to do, wiping the plate in her hands. _Why was she smiling?_ As much as Joanna liked her neighbor, she needed to get rid of her. At least for five minutes. She would have enough time to find out what was happening in the room and come back here. Myra would never know.

An idea sparkled in her mind and Joanna swallowed, fighting back her tears.

"Myra, I forgot my doll outside, in the backyard, could you bring her back for me, please?" she pouted.

"Of course, honey," she replied. Joanna bounced internally, her mother would be proud. Myra tossed the plate aside on the table and rubbed her hands on her apron. "I'll be right back."

"Thank you."

She waited, counting each step Myra took until she left the house, the door wide open. Once she was out of sight, the little girl knew it was her moment.

Her legs were still short for the chair and getting up on her own feet wasn't easy but in the end, she managed. Joanna raced down the small hallway to her parents' bedroom. A tiny crack at the door allowed her to watch the old midwife, in the corner of the room, washing a dirty cloth. Her mother's moans ringed in her ears, followed soon by her father's voice. All her bravery faded away. She could still come back and pretend she wasn't scared, pretend her mom was fine. She bit her lower lip, thinking.

Curiosity won in the end and she pushed the door open. Her eyes scanned the room and eventually, she found them, next to the bed, holding each other like no one else existed. She had seen her parents doing this before, hugging and kissing, but something was different this time. Her father was softly rubbing her mother's back with his good hand, the wooden one resting on her hip, telling her to breathe. She exhaled sharply, her forehand pressed against his collarbone. Shining sweat coated her skin and strands of golden hair escaping from her braid were sticking to her flushed cheeks. Her limbs shaked and the corner of her lips contorted in a sour grimace, making her groan. "Breathe," her father repeated.

"I know I have to breathe," she snapped back. Her mother was angry, Joanna could tell. Angry and mostly, in pain.

Her heart skipped a beat at the vivid red strains on her cotton nightgown. _Blood?_ She was pretty sure it was blood, she had scratched her knees enough before by trying to catch the bedroom cat. _Why was her mother bleeding?_ It was too much for a simple cut and losing too much blood only meant one thing. _Death. Death. Death._ The word was running in her mind, impossible to shut it down, screeching. She had been right: the thing inside her mother was killing her. Tears filled her eyes.

"Mama?" Joanna called. "Are you okay?" A salted pearl rolled down her cheek.

At the sound of her voice, her parents lifted their chins, four eyes gazing at her, and Joanna froze.

"Oh baby girl, I'm fine," her mother said softly, a sad smile on her face. "You shouldn't be here."

"I want to." It was a lie, it was scary and messy. She wanted to free her from the wretched creature in her belly.

Her father whispered something in her mother's ear as he helped her sit on the bed. She nodded and he kissed her temple. Joanna watched him straddle towards her then. He brushed the tear away, beaming, and scooped her little frame with his good arm. She tied her hands around his neck and her eyes narrowed at her mother. Anger swelled in her guts. If the baby killed her, she would never forgive him.

  
*

  
"How did you get here?" Jaime asked.

"The door was open," his daughter replied, her upset little face turning into a sly grin. She looked too much like Cersei when she was smiling that way.

"Of course, the door was open." He wondered how she escaped Myra's attention. Joanna was curious and quick for her age and, as much as his sister tried to coddle her, it often lead her into troubles. "You are too young to see this." 

He told Cersei he would try to comfort their daughter before coming back to her and he genuinely hoped she didn't see too much.

"I'm four, I'm a big girl," Joanna objected, tucking a golden lock behind her ear.

"Yes, you are," he whispered.

It had been four, almost five, precious years since they left Westeros for Pentos. It was still the best decision they ever made, Jaime never regretted it. They left everything behind, everything they had, only to live in this little stone house close to the Pentoshi shore. They traded his golden hand, later replaced by some wooden piece of work - courtesy of their brother -, for some coins and they started a new life, as Tyrion told him. It had been strange at first, almost too quiet, too peaceful when all they have known was war. The war on the battlefield, against the dead, for the throne, the war raging in their minds…

They tried, though. They took that chance, letting the strangeness melt away, and slowly embraced that peace. He enjoyed the freedom to finally call his sister his wife, to share her bed every night and wake up idly in her warmth every morning. It was all that mattered, until Joanna came into this world and anchored a hold on his heart.

Their sweet little bundle of fire was the highlight in all of this. She was full of life and always running everywhere, especially after that damn cat. She was their pride and their joy and, after all the losses, they cherished it everyday. 

When Cersei suddenly got ill all those months ago, they feared that little bliss was about to shatter, never thought she could be with child again. They believed their daughter would be their last one, their last chance to be a family. 

His sister decided to find a maester and Jaime expected some bad news when he came back from his shift at the city guards that night, his whole day had been filled with dark thoughts, imagining the worst. He only started breathing again when Cersei's smile flickered at him, a protective hand resting on her stomach. They were both surprised and delighted, and he watched his sister's belly swell once again with pride, felt their child move under his palm. Soon, he would hold him. He would watch Cersei feed him at her breast, help him making his first steps and soothe his nightmares away, just like he did with Joanna. All those precious moments together, the ones they had never been able to share before, worthed it. 

Westeros could burn for all he cared, their lives were here now.

"Mama is bleeding and screaming," Joanna blurted out. "The baby is killing her, isn't he?"

Jaime stared at her, his brows knitted together. He thought about Tyrion. Cersei blamed him his whole life for killing their mother, would their daughter do the same? No, Joanna countlessly repeated how much she wanted a little brother, and no, Cersei wasn't going to die. _But what if she does?_ A small voice whispered in his head with a flash of their own mother dying in a bed of blood.

The fear has always been here, buried deep down, and seeing his twin in such distress was never easy. The only thing he could do was stand by her side and try to comfort her. He remembered the guards at her doors when her time came for Joffrey, trying to keep him away. Killing them had been tempting, he would had if he needed to, but they eventually let him in. Cersei had been in labor for many hours and the child refused to come out. He felt helpless.

Joanna's birth had been harsh too. His sister's blood soaking the sheets and her incoherent mumbles about the witch and her prophecy were still fresh in his memory. " _I want our baby to live. I want our baby to live. I want our baby to live. I don't want to die, Jaime._ " Cersei's plea gave him cold sweat and he had to swallow his own terror to encourage her that night. " _Fuck the witch_ ," he had said, holding her hand tightly. " _You are not going to die, our baby is going to live. Fuck everyone who isn't us, remember?_ " His words appeased her and drawing from her last strengths, she pushed their little girl out of her womb.

This little one, on the other hand, seemed eager to meet the world. The midwife assured them he would be here in a couple of hours, maybe less. Cersei's contractions were too close and barely gave her the time to breathe, but they felt both more confident, more prepared in a way. The witch didn't matter anymore, Joanna was the living proof of that. The pain, the blood and the fear were just dreadful steps before having the chance to hold their child.

No, Cersei wouldn't leave them. She wouldn't leave him. Jaime brushed the idea away. By the end of day, four Lannister lions would breathe inside this house.

"The baby isn't killing her," he clarified.

"But she is hurt!" she yelled as they made their way into the kitchen.

Despite Joanna's wail, Jaime glared at the open entrance with no Myra in sight. The young woman suddenly appeared, coming from the garden, clutching his daughter's doll in her hands. It didn't take long to connect the dots and know what ploy Joanna used to dispose of her, she used that trick with him too.

Sliding out his baby girl from his grasp to make her sit on one of the chairs, he noticed the small smile she briefly threw at their neighbor. Satisfied with her own doing. _Cersei in every way._

"I'm sorry," Myra apologized, closing the door behind her. "She asked me to…" Jaime dismissed her with a wave of his hand and the girl sighed, relieved. He couldn't blame her when he knew too well how his daughter was.

"Why Mama is hurt?" Joanna pressed.

Jaime looked back at her. Two vibrant emeralds were fixing him, waiting for an answer and not caring about getting into troubles. He probably shouldn't even scold her when she was simply worried about her mother. 

"You know…" He wasn't sure how to start and kneeled in front of her to be at her height. "Having a baby is always painful. You bleed and…"

"Why?" She frowned. 

_Why? Why? Why?_ It was Joanna's favorite question lately and he didn't always had the answers she was looking for.

"I don't know, it's… it's natural." How could he explain childbirth without frightening her? Cersei would surely be better than him at this. Jaime took her hand in his, brushing her small fingers with his thumb. "It hurt too when Mama gave birth to you."

"I don't want to hurt her!" she cried out and pulled her hand away.

Jaime winced. Yes, Cersei would have been better. 

"I know that and… it wasn't your fault. Neither it's the baby's fault." Joanna crossed her arms over her chest, clearly not convinced by his words. "What I'm trying to say is, you can't avoid the pain." She tilted her head and toyed with the skirt of her dress. "Listen," he said, resting his hand on her knee, wishing he could reach her that way, "I know you are scared and I'm a little bit scared too…"

"You are?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Yes," he confessed. "We both love your mother and we don't want her to suffer, but she is strong and once your little brother or your little sister will be here, she will be thrilled. Just like she was when you came into this world." He remembered Cersei's tears of joy when the midwife huddled Joanna, bloody and screaming at the top of her lungs, on her breast, and the way he fiercely kissed her, his sister. His wife. The memory made him smile, it might have been the first time in years they were truly happy. "And the pain will be long forgotten. Do you understand what I’m saying?"

"I'm not a fool," she snarled.

Jaime chuckled. "No, you are pretty clever." 

Her lips twitched proudly at the compliment for a minute. Then, her eyes darkened, cute little face twisting into a serious grin. She was weighing his words. Jaime wondered sometimes what was trapped inside her mind. Joanna always found a way to convince people to do her bidding. Mostly him, if he had to believe Cersei. _Like mother, like daughter._

"So… Mama isn't going to die?" she finally spoke.

_What if she does?_ The voice breathed again. He sighed and closed his eyes for a brief instant. Could he make that promise? He already broke too many of them in the past. If something happened to Cersei, their daughter would think he lied to her.

"I will stay with her the whole time and take care of her, right?" Joanna nodded, content with that answer. "It won't be long now and I promise, when the baby is born, I will come for you," Jaime added, slowly rising to his feet.

"And you promise you will protect her?" she asked, shifting in her chair.

He already made that one a long time ago, he devoted his life to it. He couldn't shield his twin from the pain of childbirth, but he would do anything for her, to protect her. He pushed a boy out a window for her, he killed for her and, if he had to die for her, so be it. _For Cersei._ He would rather spend his last breath knowing she was safe than live without her. 

The scars on his ribs, from that fateful day in King's Landing, were still here to prove it. Protecting Cersei, saving her and Joanna. Nothing else had mattered more in his entire life than getting them away from this inferno. He failed Myrcella, failed Tommen and Joffrey, he couldn't fail the woman he loved and their unborn child. _I'm getting us out of here. You, me and the baby._ He could still feel the rush of adrenaline running through his veins, his heart ready to jump out of his chest by beating so fast and the intense relief to see her, alive, in the middle of this chaos.

Cersei bled for their children and he bled for her, and he would do that over and over again in a heartbeat. 

His sister's sudden roar, calling for him, made him tense. He had to get back to her. To make sure she was okay.

"Always, sweetling," Jaime whispered. He bent over, his good hand stroking his daughter's cheek, and he pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "You stay with Myra," he said, eyeing at their neighbor.

"I could take her to the shore," the woman suggested and stepped forward.

"Good idea." Cersei would probably be mad if she knew, but she was also fond of Myra for some reasons. He liked her too, she was as quiet as a mouse, only seeking for their company from time to time when her husband was away. Jaime despised the man, a drunken idiot whoring his way around. He reminded him too much Cersei's late husband. His gaze lingered back to Joanna. "Be nice."

His daughter cocked her head. "I will," she replied with a weak voice. The little mischievous glint in her eyes told him otherwise. 

Jaime silently prayed Joanna would stay out of trouble as he kissed the top of her head one last time. He walked back to his wife, his nerves tickling with doubts who weren't there when he left her. He hoped his daughter's worry and his worst fear weren't about to happen.

  
*

  
Myra kept her word. She took her to the shore and they watched the sand castle they built together disappear under the water. They giggled and dipped their toes in the sea. The waves splashed smoothly over their legs, soaking the hem of their dresses, and when they grew tired of it, they collapsed on the sand. They sat here and quietly admired the horizon for a while, blue sea blending with blue sky stretching as far as their eyes could see.

Joanna always loved coming here, but she wasn't stupid. She knew it was only a distraction today and, as much as this distraction was pleasant, she couldn't stop thinking about her mother. Her father appeased her fear and promised he would protect her. She trusted him, he always kept her safe. No, it was the creature in her mother's belly she couldn't trust. Though the anger had faded, Joanna couldn't really believe the pain was normal or would be forgotten either, as he said. 

"Do you think mermaids exist?" Myra mused suddenly.

"Maybe," she shrugged, her thoughts disturbed by the question.

She knew about direwolves, about dragons, about men changing their faces... Her mother read to her about all of them in the books her uncle Tyrion occasionally sent her but, she couldn't recall anything about mermaids. She had no idea if they were real or not.

"I'd love to be a mermaid," she muttered. _I would rather have a dragon_ , Joanna thought.

She tilted her head and stared at the young woman. She was wiping a tear, crushing her thick eyelashes under her fingertips, and Joanna wondered why she was veiling her melancholy behind polite smiles and kindness. She never dared to ask why she was always sad even if she had the idea it has to do with her husband. He was far from nice, drawing ugly purple stars on her glowing olive skin and filling her brown eyes with tears for no reason. Myra deserved someone better, someone who would love her as much as her father loved her mother.

"Then, you'd be the prettiest mermaid," Joanna replied, hoping it would make her feel better. Myra's round lips curled up. "After Mama, of course."

"Of course, after your Mama!" she chuckled, tickling the little girl's sides. Joanna screamed, begging for her to stop, and when the woman eventually surrendered to her complaint, she was left breathless with laughter. "What do you think about making a pie for her?" Myra proposed then. "I always did that when my mother gave birth to my sisters."

Joanna nodded, slowly catching her breath. She got up, kicked off the sand of her legs and they left the shore for Myra's house.

The sky was turning into a soft shade of orange when they finally made their way to her parents' home, a chill shrouding the air. "The baby is surely here," Myra had said before leaving and since then, Joanna imagined how tightly she would hug her mother.

Myra wasn't walking fast enough for her taste, holding a basket with the hot meal they both baked inside. The little girl dragged her neighbor by the hand and pressed their steps. They ascended the two small steps in front of the house and the woman knocked at the door. Joanna rolled her eyes, annoyed. There was no need for such a thing. She tiptoed, turned the handle to open the unlocked entrance, and walked inside despite Myra's protesting and following behind her. 

Silence welcomed them and Joanna shivered. She shot a confused look at Myra. She had expected to hear a baby crying or her mother wailing, or maybe her parents laughing of joy. Nothing. The idea something happened in her absence foamed in her head.

She was tempted to run down to her parents' bedroom like she did earlier and her father's words flashed in her mind, _'You stay with Myra'_. Should she obey if the baby was here? She didn't want to wait, she hated that.

Quick footsteps walking down the hallway broke her thoughts and hope to see her mother bubbled, but it was her father who appeared in front of her. Even though she was slightly disappointed, the broad smile brightening up his features he offered her could only mean one thing. _Her mother was all right._

Joanna extended her arms, clenching her fists and urging him to hold her like he often did. As he bowed to pick her up, she sobbed, "I want to see Mama."

"How is Cersei?" Myra asked at the same time.

Her father adjusted her on his hip. "Tired but fine," he said and Joanna let out a breath she didn't know she was holding at his words. She kissed his cheek. 

"You protected her well." she praised, wrapping her arms around his neck and snuggling against him. The steadiness of his heartbeats rocked her and she closed her tired eyes.

"It's my duty," her father stated. "To protect your mother," he blowed a little kiss at the invisible crease between her brows, "and you and your little brother. Do you want to see him?"

The words sunk in her mind and her eyes flickered. _Your little brother._

Those last few hours, the idea he would look like a monster had roamed in her head. She had pictured him with a head too big for his body, bloody eyes and sharpened claws clutching her mother's belly. A real little beast, like the ones she heard about in the tales, like the ones she saw in her nightmares. Now, he was here, her mother's screams were gone and she felt terrible for thinking that way when he was all she had ever wanted. She boldly shook her head. Yes, she wanted to meet him.

Joanna waved at Myra after barely listening to her congratulations. The woman dropped her basket on the kitchen table, swearing she would come to visit her mother and the new baby when they get their rest, and quickly left.

"Eager to see Mama?" her father teased, once the door was closed.

"I missed her."

"I know," he murmured, carrying her down the hallway. "She missed you too."

As they stepped inside the bedroom, Joanna threw her head back and beamed at her mother, cooing over a tiny bundle between her arms. She was throning in the middle of the bed, a cover draped on her legs. Her feverish appearance was gone, her pale skin gleaming with pride and happiness instead. The long braid was neatly tied over her shoulder and the knot of her nightgown was undone, the fabric opened on each side to reveal the top of her breasts. She looked as regal as ever. Myra could be a mermaid if she wanted, or any other creature, but her mother was a queen, like the ones in the songs and, if she was a queen, her father was her knight.

Her mother's sparkly eyes lifted on them, a radiant smile gracing her face, and Joanna tossed in her father's arm, trying to disentangle herself, until he released on the floor. She ran towards the bed.

"Careful, Joanna," he scolded behind her, but she didn't care, she was already jumping on the featherbed. She plastered a kiss on her mother's jaw, her fingers gripping her chin, making her chuckle. 

Joanna pulled away and swiftly settled against the cushions, closer as she could to her.

"My girl," her mother said while brushing her cheek with the back of her hand. Joanna leaned on her touch despite the cold fingers. She had ached for it for hours now.

"Are you still hurt?" she asked, narrowing her look at her.

Her mother's mouth gently twisted. "No, sweetling. I have your brother," she said, ducking over her "and I have you," she added before pressing her lips at the top her head.

Joanna nodded. It was the last confirmation she needed. _'And the pain will be forgotten'_ her father had told her. He was right right, he was always right.

Her eyes drifted to the little creature nestled in her mother's arms. Swaddled in a white blanket, eyes and small fists tightly shut, her brother didn't look like a monster. He was really pretty in fact. Prettier than most babies she has seen, with full lips, a crown of blond hair and chubby rosy cheeks. He looked just like her. She stared at him for a long minute, almost in awe, and love shattered her heart when he wrinkled his nose.

"He is so tiny," she exhaled suddenly.

The mattress shifted on the other side of the bed and Joanna watched her father curling up against her mother, leaving a kiss on her collarbone.

"Does he have a name?" she wondered. 

Joanna knew her parents called her after her grandmother. They always spoke of her fondly and in her dreams, she wasn't a ghost but a woman in flesh and blood. She was the mirror image of her mother, older with soft wrinkles around her fiery green eyes and golden waves flowing in her back. She was real, lovely and loving. 

"We named him Cerion," her mother replied, eyes lingering over him with the same adoration she reserved for her. "After one of your ancestors."

_Cerion_ … The name rolled on her tongue and Joanna wasn't sure if she liked it or not. _Joanna. Cerion. Jaime. Cersei._ She repeated it, over and over in her head, and looked back at her brother, still peacefully asleep. Maybe that name made sense for their family, maybe she liked it after all.

The boy jolted his little fists as their father stroked tenderly his cheek with the tip of his fingers. The urge to touch him too burned her hand. Joanna stretched her arm, almost brushing the bridge of his nose, but quickly retracted it, afraid she could hurt him. 

"Do you want to hold him?" her mother asked like she was reading her mind.

"Can I?" She frowned, looking at her parents with pleading eyes.

"Of course, sweetling," her father confirmed.

Her mother dropped a kiss on her brother's forehead. "Always hold his head," she instructed.

Joanna obeyed as she laid the baby in her arms, his head carefully sheltered in the crook of her elbow. He was heavier than she expected and yet, so small and fragile. He whined and the little girl tensed for a moment, worrying she did something wrong. Her mother shushed him, her palm delicately rubbing his stomach. "That's my boy," she whispered when he eventually calmed down, and Joanna pushed her doubts away.

Her mother withdrew her hand and fell back against the pillows, her father's good arm wrapped around her shoulders. His face buried in her golden hair, he closed his eyes and she leaned on him, relishing each other warmth. Joanna smiled at them before gazing again at the dearest package in her arms.

"Two little cubs…" she heard her mother whispering.

Similar to her own, two pools of emerald were staring at her now, innocent and defenseless. She brought her little brother closer to her chest. In her arms, no one would dare to hurt him. Their father protected their mother and she will do the same for Cerion. She silently vowed she won't let anything happen to him. She will always keep him safe, no matter what. 

"Our little cubs." It was her father this time. His voice no louder than her mother's, a hint of possessiveness in his tone. "Are you happy?" he asked softly.

"Yes, my love," her mother breathed back. "Very much."

**Author's Note:**

> This is supposed to be only a one-time thing, but I admit I liked writing Myra (let's just say she took more place than I planned) and I'd love to do something with her and Cersei so... I don't know, maybe I'll write more. And I obviously want to write more with Jaime-Cersei-Joanna!
> 
> Thanks for reading! And now, I'm probably gonna hide under a rock because my anxiety is killing me.
> 
> The title "sweetest devotion" is from a song by Adele.


End file.
